Monsters In My Head
by Cordate
Summary: Loki receives a harsh punishment for his crimes on Midgard, one that leaves him almost broken. Enter Thor, his idiot brother still determined to 'save' him, and an uncivilized Jotunn savage with her own agenda. Loki finds his silent agony interrupted by the clashing of new and old worlds, and within the chaos he just might find the strength to finally break his fall.
1. Despair

Nothing within Loki's vast imagination had prepared him for how torturous the punishment for his crimes on Midgard would be. He had expected to be sentenced to a lengthy period of confinement in the dungeons, perhaps even stripped of his royal status. All of that he could handle with his trademark sneer and impervious attitude. It wasn't as though Loki needed the company or esteem of people whom he hated, anyway.

What Odin had done was so much worse. Such a simple instrument – a needle and length of thread immersed in heavy sealing magic. Ten stitches across his lips, binding his silver tongue and marring his face with a horrific emblem of shame and silence.

He had tried pulling, cutting, and using what small portion of his magic was left to him to overcome the charms on the thread. It was all to no avail. He was trapped like this, unable to speak or even open his mouth to breathe. He could make stifled guttural noises, which were next to useless when it came to communication. He could drink through a tiny, hollow reed that he forced through a gap between the threads. He could not eat anything, and hunger had become a primary attribute of his existence. Most infuriating, he could do nothing to escape the discomfort of his enforced silence. The wounds on his lips stung constantly, and his jaws ached from being forced together for so long. The stitches were so _tight_ that they even interfered with his ability to make basic facial expressions. His silky lies, enticing stories, and sharp-tongued wit were all taken from him. If not for Thor, he would have been completely stuck inside his own head, unable to relay any of his frustration and rage to the world.

If not for Thor. What a joke that was. If not for Thor, Loki wouldn't be in this mess in the first place. He would be ruling Midgard as a benevolent god, as was his birthright. Instead he was confined to his chambers in the palace, guarded night and day, and chained on the few occasions when he was allowed to venture outside. His chambers had been stripped down to their barest state, all the lavish comforts he was used to replaced with ugly, Spartan furnishings. Apart from his family, he could receive no visitors, though Loki knew full well there was no one who wished to pay him a visit. In the beginning, he had been allowed to keep a few of his servants to tend his rooms, but Loki couldn't stand the way they looked at him. The disdain in their voices, the mockery in their eyes. They knew he was unworthy. One by one, he drove them off with violence until he languished alone in his prison. At least this way, no one could set their eyes on him and see how far he had fallen. There was no reprieve from the endless misery of his existence. Even sleep only brought with it nightmares of falling from the Bifrost, unable to scream in fear.

Now six months had passed in Asgard. The wounds on his lips were mostly healed, though they still bled occasionally when he pulled at the stitches. Odin never came to see him, and Frigga had gradually stopped visiting since she could not bear to see her son in such misery. However, no matter how strenuously he rejected him, Thor continued to insist on invading Loki's rooms several times a week and trying to talk to him. It was maddening because there were so many things Loki wanted to say, or rather shout at his idiot brother, but he couldn't speak a single word. Occasionally Thor brought him parchment and a quill so he could express his pent-up frustration, which made him feel slightly better, but this was the only mercy he was allowed to receive. His rooms had fallen into a state of disarray, and sometimes he was alone in them for so long that he felt he would break under the heavy silence. That was when he started tearing and smashing anything he could get his hands on, just to hear something that wasn't his own stifled breathing. Now most of his chambers' furnishings lay broken around him, and the wallpaper hung in tattered ribbons that stirred occasionally in the wind.

Loki knew he was in a state of ruin. He also knew that, for the first time in his existence, he couldn't see a way out. At the end of each day, the only pleasant thought he had to cling to was the fervent hope that he could fall asleep without dreams and never awaken again.


	2. Thor's Terrible Idea

**Hey guys! So I'm just messing around with a plot bunny that's been in my head for the past few days. Honestly not sure if I'll have the time or attention span to continue this story, but if people like it, I might make an effort. Cheers!**

Loki could hear his brother's thundering footsteps before Thor was anywhere near his chambers. He weakly pulled himself into a sitting position and considered covering the lower half of his face, but decided against it. Seeing the stitches on his brother's lips made Thor visibly uncomfortable, which made Loki feel that he still had a small measure of control over someone. He tried not to wince as Thor threw open the door and strode into Loki's chambers as though they were his own, something he'd been doing his entire life and which never failed to grate on Loki's nerves. "Good evening, brother." Loki stared with narrowed eyes as Thor peered carefully over his huddled form. He didn't want to imagine how pathetically fragile he must look to the god of thunder. He had smashed every mirror in his chambers soon after his confinement began, so he had not seen his reflection in quite a while, but he could feel the weakness in every limb of his body and he hated it.

Thor moved to sit beside him on the bed and Loki let out a low, guttural growl. Thor ignored it and Loki gripped and headboard as his body was jostled by his brother's sudden weight upon the mattress. Thor stared at him earnestly before gesturing around the room. "Loki, you know mother and I have been greatly concerned for your well-being since….since your punishment was carried out."

A thousand sharp, furious retorts rose to the tip of Loki's tongue, and he tugged instinctively at his stitches before forcing them back down his throat. Thor was looking at him with pity in his bright, golden eyes. Loki could not stand being pitied. He pointed at the door and gritted his teeth when Thor simply carried on talking. "You are sick, brother. You are not taking care of yourself. If you continue languishing like this, your body and mind may become too damaged to recover."

Loki tried to twist his lips into a snarl, but they were held taut by the thread. With a groan of frustration, he pushed his brother away from him and jabbed his finger toward the door again. Thor looked at him sadly. "You know that if I could, I would devote my days to caring for you until you recover. But I have many duties of the realm to attend to, and I cannot always be present in Asgard when you need me."

Loki grabbed Thor's hand and attempted to spell I DON'T NEED YOU into his palm, but the god of thunder's mind was clearly elsewhere as he tapped his feet upon the marble floor. "Therefore, after a thorough search, I have found an attendant to look after you while I am away. Mother agrees it is best for you to have someone at your side to see to your well-being."

Loki pulled at his stitches again, wanting nothing more than to curse Thor for his arrogance and protectiveness. It was clear that Thor was not asking Loki's permission to bring a new attendant into his rooms. Some simple-minded chambermaid who would scurry around him and _stare_ like he was a monster, then go downstairs and gossip with the palace staff about the pathetic state of the fallen prince. He wanted no such person near him. Loki balled his hands into fists and shook his head hard, wishing Thor would at least give him some parchment to write on so he could argue with him properly. Instead, Thor gestured toward the door and practically bellowed, "You may come in!" Loki heard the rustle of fabric as a small figure stepped into the room, and he turned a thorny glare toward the intruder. A moment later he registered what his eyes were seeing, and his vision went white with rage.

Standing in his doorway was a woman no taller than his shoulder, with a slender build and slate-grey eyes. But that wasn't the detail that struck him like a blow from his brother's hammer. Her skin, from her wide forehead to her bare feet, was a pale shade of blue which he had only seen on the worst days of his life. Thor had brought a goddamn _Jotunn_ into his chambers.

A scream of fury boiled deep in his throat, smothered by the thread binding his lips. Loki launched himself to his feet, seized the nearest object, and hurled it at her. An old inkwell smashed against her shoulder, and she turned her eyes downward in bemusement. Loki snatched up a mug next, but the arc of his arm was interrupted by Thor's strong hand around his wrist. "Loki! Loki, control yourself, there's no need to-"

The god of mischief turned the full force of his fury on his brother, clawing at the arm that held him and pounding his fists against Thor's massive chest. The blonde man barely even flinched, which only drove Loki deeper into his rage. This was a sick joke, a mockery of his shameful heritage! A cruel reminder of his outsider status both within his family and throughout Asgard. He wondered which of Thor's insipid friends had proposed this idea as a petty amusement for the court. How they would laugh to see their disgraced, false prince walking around with this Jotunn savage at his side, the vile color of her skin reminding everyone what he really was underneath his well-cast illusion. The thought of it was unbearable. Loki let out a strangled howl as Thor managed to successfully pin his arms. He felt blood running down his chin, but he didn't care as he continued to strain at the stitches preventing him from cursing his brother into the ground. He heard Thor roar for the guards stationed outside his room, and the next moment he found himself trapped in between their plated armor as they forced his arms behind his back and shackled his wrists. Loki suddenly felt very dizzy and he swayed, held upright by their tight grip on his sides. Thor was talking, trying to calm him and get him to stop pulling at the stitches, but Loki was frantic. All the words inside his throat were choking him, he couldn't breathe, he had to get them out! _I need to scream I **need** to scream I **NEED** to scream_

The next thing he knew, he was being lifted and dropped roughly onto his bed. Loki fought viciously as his ankles were shackled to the bedposts and his arms were lifted and attached securely to the headboard, making it impossible for him to roll or contract his body. Once he heard the final metal click, Loki knew there was no point in struggling anymore. Chest heaving, he sought his brother's eyes and found Thor kneeling at his side, still trying to soothe him. Loki did not want to be soothed. He was not a child having a tantrum. His gaze darted about the room and settled on the bluish face of the Jotunn girl. She was still standing in the same spot, staring down at him with those blank, slate-grey eyes. Those eyes made him furious again, and he felt his lips twist into a bloody snarl.

Thor gave brisk orders to the guards, who stood and retreated from the room. Loki squirmed uncomfortably in his chains, hating them all. Even if he wasn't intentionally mocking him, how could Thor possibly think this was acceptable? All of Asgard knew that Jotunheim was populated by savage, inferior creatures who were barely fit to exist. Bringing one of them here, to _look after_ him? It was worse than a cruel joke. Loki was convinced this had to be some kind of additional punishment devised by Odin to humiliate him further. He tried to catch Thor's eye and communicate that he did not want this creature anywhere near him. Thor, however, was rising and addressing the Jotunn girl awkwardly. "I….well, I'm sorry about that. It is as I told you, my brother is….not well. He is suffering greatly due to the nature of his punishment for recent crimes on Midgard. He doesn't mean to be hostile…."

Loki growled and jerked at his chains, emphasizing that he absolutely _did_ mean it. To his growing horror, Thor nodded toward the girl and gathered up his cloak. "I must go and find a healer to tend to the wounds on his mouth. He cannot harm you in his current state, so just….watch him." Loki didn't see the girl nod, but Thor seemed to take her silence as an assent. He strode brusquely from the room while Loki tried to force the word _Stop!_ past the stitches binding his lips. It came out as an unintelligible grunt, and he twisted fiercely at his wrist shackles as he listened to his brother's footsteps thunder away. What was Thor thinking, leaving him alone with this _thing?_

The Jotunn girl approached the bed where Loki lay, suddenly feeling extremely vulnerable. The chains held his arms above his head and prevented him from using his legs to kick. This position was calculated, he knew, because it didn't hurt him, but also didn't allow him to do anything but lie here and wait to be released. He had spent a great deal of time restrained like this during the first few months of his captivity, lost in a haze of rage and panic. Now that panic was beginning to return, edging out the rage he had felt before. The Jotunn girl was standing very close to him, and even though she was small, from this angle she towered over him. It crossed Loki's mind that she must know it was he who had tried to use the power of the Bifrost to destroy her realm. Perhaps she even knew how he had tricked and killed Laufey, plunging Jotunheim into a state of leaderless chaos. What in all the nine realms made Thor think she wouldn't use this opportunity to take revenge? Loki tried to glare up at her, but found his eyes flitting nervously across her azure body, searching for a weapon. She was wearing a cream-colored tunic and not much else, seemingly impervious to the cold air on her bare limbs. Her hair was like a snowdrift atop her head, pure white and wild, and her cheekbones were outlined with thin ridges which ran up to the outer corner of both eyes. She did not speak. _Dumb savage,_ he thought, _probably doesn't even speak the Aesir tongue._ When she moved, he twitched and craned his neck to follow her as she paced a slow circle around his bed. Despite the darkness of her eyes, he could tell she was studying him intently, and he did not like it at all. Where was his idiot of a brother? It shouldn't take this long to run to the infirmary and back.

She leaned toward him suddenly, and he gave a muffled cry and pulled away as far as the chains would allow. Ignoring his fear, she reached an icy hand across the headboard and laid a finger on the inside of his wrist. It was the barest touch, as light as a snowflake, yet he felt the sensation of his skin responding by dropping his body temperature. The veins in his forearm felt like rivers freezing over in the winter. Strangest of all, it did not hurt. The girl's eyes grew wider and more intense as he snapped out of his reverie and thrashed fiercely against the chains holding his arms. It was too late, though – out of the corner of his eye he saw his palm beginning to flush that same eerie shade of blue. It spread like an infection, a disease, until his entire hand was that loathsome color. Loki couldn't contain the urge to voice his outrage, though it only made him angrier when all of his violent curses came out as strained, animalistic grunts. The girl's eyes moved to his face and settled on the stitches that bound his words. She finally stopped touching him and just stared, as if he were a fascinating specimen she had been sent to analyze.

Loki had never been so relieved to hear his brother's raucous footsteps on the flagon stones outside his door. Thor came bustling in with a healer in tow, and the girl backed away as the uniformed lady set about wiping the blood from his mouth with a wet cloth. Loki squirmed indignantly as she pushed his head down and applied salve to his wounds without so much as a 'by your leave.' Ever since his lips were sealed, people treated him like an object to be handled rather than a conscious being. Worst of all, he couldn't even protest, and it was beginning to drive him mad. His eyes darted toward his brother, but Thor just looked at him in sad confusion and Loki knew the god of thunder could never understand how it felt to be this helpless. He closed his eyes and refused to open them again until the healer left his chambers.

He felt Thor's weight settle onto the bed beside his legs. If his brother noticed his discolored hand, he didn't say anything. Loki gritted his teeth and told himself he needed to act docile now. It was his only chance of getting these damned chains removed anytime soon. If Thor left him like this, he would be at the mercy of the unnerving grey-eyed Jotunn standing in the corner, nearly blending into the bluish dimness of the evening shadows. He knew he did not want that. Thor touched his shoulder gently and Loki had to wrestle with himself so as not to pull away. "It will be all right, brother," Thor said earnestly, gesturing toward the corner. "She will take good care of you. I have searched far and wide to find someone suitable for your….circumstances."

Loki shook his head furiously, forgetting to be docile. _I will not have this creature forced on me; I will not be further humiliated!_ His throat felt like it was boiling with enraged frustration. If he could only speak, it would take him less than five minutes to convince his witless brother that this was a terrible idea. Thor always came around to Loki's silver-tongued persuasions, whether he realized it or not. The god of mischief could talk his way into or out of anything, an ability which he prized above all else. But now that he was mute, he was powerless.

"Loki, are you listening to me?" He blinked and stared up at his brother's irked expression. "At least think of mother's peace of mind. She worries for you night and day. She knows you need help, yet you drive off anyone who offers it and so you suffer alone. This state of affairs cannot go on."

_Anyone who offers me help is a naïve fool._ Loki pulled at his chains and glanced pointedly at Thor, who had always been extremely accomplished in that area. The god of thunder sighed and reached down to unlock the shackles, though Loki noted with displeasure that Thor left one of his ankles attached to the bedpost. "You will rest now," he commanded, his tone making it clear Loki had no choice in the matter. "You will not injure or threaten this woman. In the morning, if you are calm, you may go free."

Loki narrowed his eyes, hating the tone of authority Thor always took in these situations. It had been like this ever since they were children. Thor was the _oldest,_ so he got to dictate what games they would play, and if Loki got upset about it he would have to contend with his brother's insistent nature, which was more tiring than simply going along with what he wanted. How little things had changed over the years. But Loki was _not_ a child anymore, and he had the right to be furious about what had been done to him. He made a sound of protest as Thor stood up, and reached for him with newly freed hands. Thor easily evaded him by backing away. He handed something to the Jotunn girl and nodded at her before bidding Loki goodnight and striding from the room. Loki was left staring at the corner where this savage girl, this enemy, was resting against the wall. Slowly, without blinking or turning her back, she climbed onto the counter, pulled her knees up to her chest, and continued to stare with grey, owlish eyes. She seemed to be taking Thor's command to watch him very seriously.

He looked around for something he could throw at her, but his limited reach left him with no satisfactory options. Pointing fiercely at the door, he tried his best to articulate the words _**GET OUT**_ from behind his stitches. His lips stung and the order stayed trapped inside his mouth. Even if this girl did not intend to harm him, how was she going to serve him if he couldn't even express his desires? _I want to leave these bloody rooms. I want to talk with mother in her gardens. I want to read books from the library. I want to rule Midgard and make those petty humans kneel. I want to be a true Asgardian heir. I want to forget what this weakness feels like. I want to scream. I want water._

Exhausted, he threw himself onto his mattress and turned his head to watch the Jotunn girl warily. He didn't know what he would do if she suddenly attacked. He had no weapons and he couldn't call out for the guards stationed outside his door. Loki had no illusions about how easy he would be to subdue in his weakened state. They stared at each other for what felt like hours, as the shadows slid from one wall to another and the nighttime sounds of the castle echoed through the empty halls. He fought to keep his eyes open, but he couldn't help blinking. Loki did not remember exactly when his eyes blinked shut and stayed that way.

Sometime in the night, a cashmere blanket found its way around his shoulders and the god of mischief curled up in its folds, unconsciously tugging at the stitches that kept his nightmare mutterings trapped behind his lips.


	3. Loki Makes Things Worse

He awoke the next morning sore and disoriented, unsure how much of the previous night's events had been a bad dream. As he always did, Loki ran his fingers lightly over his stitched mouth to confirm that this particular nightmare was still part of his reality. Then he looked around the room for any sign of the eerie-eyed Jotunn girl. He didn't see her anywhere, and thought with relief that she must have been part of the dreams that had plagued him in his sleep. Even his idiot brother would never do something as stupid and offensive as actually bringing one of those creatures into the palace.

He turned his head and the first thing he saw was the metal water jug sitting on his bedside table, gleaming in the morning light. It dawned on Loki just how thirsty he was; he reached for it instinctively, fumbling with the glass beside it and pouring himself some water. He sat still for a moment, staring into his marred reflection before opening the table's lower drawer and retrieving a long, narrow reed. He stuck one end in the water and ran the other over his aching lips until he found the only place where the threads were sewn far apart enough to allow him to push a thin object through. It hurt, but Loki was desperate for water and he sighed in relief when he was finally able to use the reed to draw some into his mouth. At least he could do this much for himself. Loki hated having to rely on others, which he had to do for almost everything since being imprisoned here. It stung his pride, and it created a frightening sense that he could be dropped at any time and left in the dust to rot.

Loki finished drawing water from the glass and reclined against his pillows, trying to think through the day ahead. He had nothing to do, nowhere to go, no books to read. Thor might come visit him later, a thought which created in Loki a complex mixture of irritation, shame, and hope. Having his brother around was trying for many reasons, but being left alone with his own thoughts wasn't any better. At least Thor talked to him and was patient with his laborious efforts to communicate through writing or gesture. Over the past six months, Loki had gradually realized that his punishment wasn't just about being silenced; it was also in having no one left who wanted to listen to him. He didn't have any companions in Asgard; he was well aware that the unruly group of warriors who frequented the palace were really Thor's friends, and they merely put up with Loki's occasional presence for his brother's sake. Still, his royal status had always given him a certain sway over the court, and his silver tongue enabled him to convince, deceive, and manipulate anyone he came into contact with. Loki enjoyed doing these things very much, so he had never been bored or….lonely. Not exactly. Not like he was now, with no one to talk to and no intrigues of power and politics to amuse himself with.

Loki shifted as he tried to rise from the bed, and found that his left leg didn't want to move. Flipping back the covers, he observed a thick manacle attached to his ankle, securing him to the bedpost via a short chain. How the hell had that gotten there? Loki frowned and rubbed his head as he tried to sort out nightmare from memory. In his dream about the Jotunn girl, he thought he had ended up chained to the bed after he'd thrown an inkwell at her….but Thor had been there, and Thor had released him….except for….

_You will not harm or threaten this woman. In the morning, if you are calm, you may go free._ Loki's green eyes widened as the voice of his brother echoed in his mind. He pulled at his shackled leg and twisted his body to peer around the room, searching for anything else that seemed out of place. In the corner by the door, he spotted the shattered remains of the black inkwell that had been on his desk. A sudden, deep chill settled over his body.

_It can't be true._ Loki struggled to sit up and eyed the water jug, which he definitely did not remember being there last night. His attention was caught by a glimmer from the other side of the jug; moving it aside, he blinked in surprise at the sight of a small, silver key. Grabbing it, he jammed it into the lock on his manacle and was even more surprised when it clicked open obligingly. Finally free to move, Loki scrambled from his bed and staggered upright, staring wildly around the room. This couldn't be happening to him. If that nightmare was in fact reality, then that meant…. Gritting his teeth, he seized a heavy candelabra from his dresser and strode furiously into the adjoining room.

An hour later, he had gone through every nook and cranny of his chambers without finding any sign of another presence. Finally his weakened body rebelled and he was forced to sit and rest in the alcove of his drawing room. Loki closed his eyes and ran his fingers wearily over the painful stitches on his mouth. Was the isolation starting to make him lose his grip on reality? He could swear there was no one here, yet in his mind he recalled so clearly the flood of rage which had overcome him upon seeing that bluish face. He even remembered the ridges under her eyes and her wild mop of snowy hair. Loki bowed his head and rested his face in his hands as his mind worked furiously. Maybe Thor was right. Maybe he really was becoming irreversibly sick.

The opening and closing of the door to his chambers startled Loki from his despondent musings. He hadn't heard Thor's resounding footsteps, and no one but his brother and the guards ever entered here. Warily, Loki stood and approached the doorway to the entrance hall. Before he could react, a bluish figure breezed past him and entered the kitchens. The figure set a small sack on the counter with a _thump!_ and turned to look out the window. Her face in profile looked even stranger than it had last night. Azure skin and pure white hair. Faint markings on her shoulders and back, and long, tapered fingers. A monstrous form. Loki clenched his fist around the candelabra's base and stepped into the room.

The Jotunn girl turned and her grey eyes widened as she spotted the metal implement sailing toward her head. She ducked underneath its arc and rolled over the counter, landing nimbly on the other side. Loki swung the candelabra again and it crashed against the table as she backed away and ran, but not in the direction he wanted. Instead of fleeing out the door, she darted deeper into his chambers and vanished into the sitting room. With a stifled curse, Loki stumbled after her, determined to rid himself of this creature before his idiot brother could interfere. He didn't care whether she took her leave through the door or the window – he simply wanted her gone before the court found out about her. Even if by some miracle he was pardoned and allowed to return to his former life, the people of Asgard would hold _this_ against him forever.

The sitting room was empty and Loki charged into the drawing room just in time to see a mane of white hair whip around the corner. He followed its path and found himself back in his main bedchamber, squaring off against the Jotunn girl who had taken refuge on the other side of the room. He threw a glass at her and it shattered against the wall as she ducked behind his dresser. Striding across the room, Loki kicked the dresser over and managed to strike her in the back with the candelabra as she scrambled out from underneath the furniture. She hit the floor face-first, evaded another swipe, and rolled under his bed faster than he could move to stop her. Loki slammed the candelabra against the headboard, hoping to scare her out, and when that didn't work he attempted to shove his bed aside, but found he didn't have the strength. Infuriated, he was about to try again when a clattering behind him announced the arrival of the guards through the main door. They didn't bother trying to reason with him, having seen him fly into a destructive rage many times before. One of them grabbed him and shoved him facedown onto the mattress while the other re-attached the shackles to his ankles and secured them to the bedposts. Loki shrieked furiously and managed to throw the guard off long enough to slam the candelabra into his partner's metal-plated chest. The burly man tossed his weapon aside and threw the full force of his weight against Loki's arm. Something snapped out of place, and the god of mischief howled in agony as the guard secured his other arm to the headboard and backed away with a satisfied smile on his face. "What's the matter, my lord? Are you hurt?"

His partner chuckled and Loki groaned as his vision swam in and out. He tried to move his injured arm and realized his shoulder was projecting out at an odd angle. Whimpering, he pulled weakly against his chains, desperate to do something to ease the pain. The first guard bent so he was looming over Loki. "Why don't you tell us where it hurts, my lord? We can't help you if we don't know where to start." His casual tone and innocent expression belied the malicious glint in his eyes. Loki glared and strained at his stitches, muffled curses trapped behind his lips. The guard raised and lowered his shoulders. "Can't say I understand what any of that means, my lord. We'll be off now; if you need us, just call." Loki cried out in panic as the chuckling pair moved toward the doorway. The guard waved mockingly and then Loki found himself alone again, splayed out face-down on his bed and choking on the need to scream in agony.

He tried shifting his body to alleviate the pressure on his arm, but pulling against the chains only made it worse. Loki moaned and pressed his forehead into the pillow, unable to restrain the flood of pained tears that clouded his vision. How long were they going to leave him like this? If past experience was any indication, he knew it might be days before they bothered to call a healer from the infirmary. _It hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts_ Loki shuddered and turned his eyes toward the silent doorway. For once, he longed to hear his brother's thunderous footsteps on the flagon floors, but there was only silence.

Well, not quite. A faint rustling reminded him that he was not alone in the room after all. Moving cautiously, Loki turned his head and started to see the slate-grey eyes of the Jotunn girl peering at him from beyond the edge of the mattress. The familiar sense of vulnerability resurfaced as he flinched away from that side of the bed. This was just what he needed, another brutish savage come to torment him. When was this hell going to end?

The girl scooted her body out from under the bed and stood up, eyeing him suspiciously, as though this might all be a ruse to throw her off her guard. Loki wished he was capable of faking this much pain. He tried again to move his arm and whimpered as his shoulder blade throbbed like it was splitting from his body. He had dislocated his shoulder once before, when he was a child and Thor had challenged him to a tree-climbing contest. Of course Loki fell, and he remembered the pain was like nothing he'd ever felt before. Thor carried him to the infirmary and stayed guiltily at his side throughout the frightening process of setting his arm back in its socket. Loki remembered it had taken two healers, one on either side of him, and copious amounts of tonic for pain. Even so, the day hadn't been all bad. Frigga had rushed to his side as soon as she heard, and even Odin left the affairs of court to come see him. For the first time, Loki had his whole family's attention and affection directed at him. It was enough to help him forgive Thor for being a witless oaf and causing the whole thing in the first place.

Loki struggled to stay in that memory, or any other for that matter – anything to avoid coming back to the present where he was injured and alone and likely about to be killed by some Jotunn savage Thor had dragged in from the frost. His green eyes found her grey ones and they stared at each other for a long time before she turned and walked away toward the kitchens. Loki sighed and tried to focus on something else apart from the pain in his body. What day was it, and what was Frigga doing now? Was she in her gardens, her chambers, or maybe presiding over court with Odin? What about Thor? Was he still abed after a night of carousing with his friends at the tavern, or was he maybe planning for his next hunting trip in the mountains? Loki closed his eyes, feeling them burn with unshed tears. That life seemed a distant memory, like something he had read in a book about someone else. They were all so far away from him now. So far away, and he was falling. Even if he reached out, the vast abyss between them only grew wider.

A nearby clattering sound startled his eyes open, and Loki found himself staring up into the expressionless face of the Jotunn girl, who had just placed a tray onto the bedside table. Loki could not see what was on it, but he flinched as the girl climbed onto the mattress beside him and drew a small knife from the pocket of her tunic. She grabbed his wrist and he gave a muffled cry and tried in vain to push her away. The girl placed the knife under the cuff of his shirtsleeve. She sliced through it with ease and moved the knife up the tear, elongating it past his elbow, his shoulder, his neck. Loki didn't dare struggle as he felt the metal brush his skin, wondering frantically what she was going to do to him. Finally she stopped cutting and peeled the fabric of his shirt from his arm and shoulder, leaving the bare flesh exposed. Loki turned his head enough to see the grotesque way his shoulder blade stuck out, and whimpered as the Jotunn girl placed her frigid hand over it. He squeezed his eyes shut, not wanting to see his skin turn that awful color, and focused on his breathing. _In and out. In and out._ He felt the pain begin to lessen as his shoulder grew numb from the cold.

After a few minutes, the girl removed her hand and Loki grunted in surprise as he felt two thin, cold arms wrap around his waist and haul him upright as far as the chains would allow. He shook his head and struggled to push her away with his good arm, but the girl was undeterred. She swatted his hand aside and propped him up with his head and chest supported in her lap, meanwhile carefully rearranging each of his limbs in some kind of coordinated pattern. Loki moaned in pain and finally gave up struggling, realizing he couldn't do anything to stop whatever her plan was. His breath came in ragged, shallow gasps. Where in all the seven hells was Thor when he needed him?

Then the girl leaned down, her white hair spilling over his face as he tried in vain to turn his head enough to look at her. He could feel her frosty breath on the back of his neck, followed by a voice as low and dark as the coldest winter night. "Relax, my prince. This will hurt much less if your muscles aren't tense."

_What will hurt? What are you doing?!_ Loki tried to demand, only managing to emit a muffled groan. His body shuddered in fear and the girl pressed her hand down onto his dislocated shoulder. He suddenly understood, with a swoop of dizzy nausea, what she was going to do. "Relax," she insisted, and Loki whimpered, clawing pitifully at the bedspread. _"Relax."_ She pushed forcefully on his arm and he finally gave in, allowing his body to go limp against her. He felt her lift his arm and slowly ease it down toward his side. There was an audible 'pop', and then his vision fled and the world went with it.


	4. A Creation Story

**Thanks so much for the reviews people have left so far. They help me find the energy to keep writing this story! **

Loki woke up later with a dull ache in his shoulder and found a warm blanket wrapped around him again. He lay still for a moment, taking inventory of his body and making sure everything was there. Then he tried sitting up, but he couldn't do much more than raise his head. He had been turned over onto his back, and all four of his limbs were still restrained. This time there was no confusion as to whether recent events had been real or a dream. The lingering pain in his shoulder was proof enough.

Loki squirmed gingerly, trying to prop himself up on his pillows so he could survey the room. He didn't see anyone else, no guards, no brother, and certainly no blue-faced Jotunn girl. Even so, he knew he was not alone in his chambers. As children, Thor had played enough pranks on him that he'd become very keen at sensing when there was another presence nearby.

"Are you feeling less pained now, my prince?"

Loki jumped at the voice that had come from directly behind and above him. Craning his neck backward he saw, from his vantage point, the upside-down figure of the Jotunn girl seated on the edge of his headboard with her knees gathered up to her chest. She was peering down at him with mild curiosity. "You were crying out in your sleep. I was not sure whether to wake you."

Loki stared up at her and could not help remembering childhood stories about blue-skinned monsters who towered over men and quite literally froze the blood in their veins before killing them. Thor had indulged in those kinds of tales when they were young, always going on about how he would defeat the monsters by shattering their icy armor with a mighty blow from his weapon. Loki, on the other hand, would lie awake at night and feel thankful that Jotunheim was an entirely different realm, and creatures like that did not exist in Asgard. _Frost Giants._ Though Loki knew there was objectively nothing _giant_ about the girl currently balanced on his headboard, from this angle she seemed to stare down from an imposing height. He balked under her gaze and pulled instinctively at his chains.

"You are very weak," the Jotunn girl assessed, tapping her lips with a long finger. "The sealing charms on that thread have taken almost all of your magic. And you cannot eat to gain new strength. Also, you are clearly violent and mentally unsound."

Loki grunted harshly and glared, but found to his dismay that glaring upside-down was much less effective. The girl raised a silvery eyebrow and hopped down from her perch, swinging her mane of white hair behind her head. She crossed her arms and looked him straight in the eye. "Nevertheless, I will take care of you as your brother has asked. He wishes for you to be kept healthy and safe while you are confined here. This will be much easier for both of us if you learn to cooperate. You cannot simply-" she gestured vaguely toward the wreckage of his chambers, "go around breaking things and injuring yourself and bludgeoning people with _that._"

Loki narrowed his eyes furiously as she pointed to the candelabra on the floor. How dare this little savage stand before him and tell him how to behave! She was in the presence of a prince of Asgard! Slaying her kind had been a minor amusement for this kingdom's warriors for the past several thousand years. She ought to be grateful no one had taken a sword to her the moment she'd stepped foot in the palace. Thor's orders, no doubt, but Loki was keen to see just how long those orders would hold sway over the ancient animosity of the court.

She seemed to know what he was thinking, as she sighed and stepped back toward the kitchens. "I am going to begin cleaning the other rooms. If you need me, just….make some sort of noise. I have very strong hearing. Also, do not move that arm excessively."

She turned and vanished through the doorway as Loki clenched his fists and let his head drop into his pillows. It seemed he was cursed to spend eternity shackled to this bed while he was tormented by imbeciles. _You are very weak._ He gritted his teeth and pulled reflexively at the stitches that kept him from uttering every curse he knew. He wanted to get up and pace the room in agitation. He wanted to walk out of these chambers, out of the palace, and keeping walking until he reached his favorite tree in the nearby woodlands. He wanted to lie down underneath its branches and think of nothing.

Thor found him in this restless state several hours later, when the great oaf finally came thundering into his rooms with a sheaf of parchment and a quill. Loki eyed them desperately as Thor took in the state of the bedchamber and looked at him in concern. "Brother, what has happened here? Have you been destroying things again?"

_Don't ask me questions until I can answer them, you idiot!_ Loki gestured toward his wrist shackles and gave Thor a plaintive stare. The god of thunder sighed and glanced around. "Where is your attendant?"

_For the love of -_ Loki rolled his eyes and grunted fiercely. Imbeciles, all of them.

"Pardon me, your grace." A small, bluish figure stepped into the room and bowed demurely. "I have just been cleaning the other rooms in your brother's chambers."

"Ah, good! They were starting to look like the aftermath of a battle." Thor smiled, approaching her with his typical drawling ease. "If I may ask, what happened here?"

The girl averted her eyes tactfully. "My prince is still….struggling to accept my presence here. At the moment he is rather hostile. It is as you said; his mind and body have suffered great damage."

"Ah, yes." Thor pursed his lips uncomfortably. "Loki can be rather stubborn. It takes a great deal of persistence to –"

At this point Loki slammed his fists upon the headboard and twisted wildly against his chains. His injured arm throbbed, but he didn't care – he would _not_ lie here mute and helpless while Thor talked about him with this savage as if he wasn't capable of understanding them. Just because he couldn't speak, didn't mean he ought to be treated like an _invalid._ Loki gestured toward the parchment in his brother's hands and growled insistently. The Jotunn girl watched his face. "I believe he wishes to make his thoughts known to us."

Thor looked uneasy, which prompted more thrashing about from Loki. The god of thunder placed a heavy hand against his chest and held him down. "Given these circumstances, I am not sure this is the right time for a conversation. My brother can be rather….harsh when he is upset. He will go to great lengths to give insult to anyone his wrath falls upon. I would not wish for you to be offended…."

Loki felt acid rise in his throat and burn his tongue. He wanted to scream in fury and overturn every piece of furniture in the palace. Thor had no right to deny him this, his only means of interaction and relief. Why was he so concerned about the feelings of some wasteland savage who probably couldn't read anyway? The girl tilted her head as she glanced over his strained face. "We must listen to him. It will ease his suffering. That is why we are here, yes?"

"Yes, but I don't want you to have to –" Thor stopped as she crossed the room and hopped back onto the headboard, drawing her knees up to her chest in what seemed to be her usual style of sitting.

"There is nothing he can say that has not been said before." Her grey eyes seemed to cloud over like a coming thunderstorm, but Loki breathed in relief when he saw that his brother was finally convinced. Thor's strong hands unlocked the shackles binding his wrists and Loki sat up and immediately grabbed the parchment and quill. His injured arm shook as he dashed ink across the page with a speed gained from many years of scholarship. Thor came to sit on the bed and Loki practically shoved the parchment in his face. _I demand you cease your deplorable actions toward me at once._

Thor raised his eyebrow. "Me? What did I do?"

Loki's fingers nearly bowled over the quill as he wrote, _You brought this lowly creature into my chambers as a mockery against my origins. Did you think I wouldn't suspect as much? You intend to humiliate me further by associating me with these miserable Jotunn beasts. _

"I don't – Loki, that's not true," Thor argued, while the girl watched calmly from her perch. "I would never do something like that. I brought her here to help you recover from your ordeal. You cannot stay like this – the way you've been these past months. And I cannot stand to see you in such despair."

_Then why do you insist on coming to see me?_ Loki wrote, scowling.

"You are my brother," Thor replied simply.

Loki's hand clenched around the quill, rolling it between the pads of his fingers. After a moment, he scribbled _I'm not, though._

Thor furrowed his brow. "Loki, you ought to know better than that."

_Don't tell me what I ought to know._ Loki practically stabbed the quill into the parchment before remembering that his primary objective was to rid himself of the unwanted newcomer. He had limited space to write; Thor never seemed to bring enough parchment for everything he wanted to say. He glared over at the Jotunn girl on his headboard. _If you are determined to furnish me with a new attendant, you must find one from Asgard. I don't care who. Anyone is better than this –_ he gesticulated wildly toward her and she raised a silvery eyebrow at him.

_"Loki,"_ Thor warned in a low voice. "That is not going to happen. Have you forgotten how many servants you've driven away these past months? After all that, do you think it was easy to find someone willing to look after you? This girl will stay for as long as she pleases."

_I don't need anyone to look after me!_

"Yes," Thor said firmly, "you do."

_Is this part of my punishment, to have every detail of my life taken out of my control?_ Loki shoved the paper in his brother's face and Thor frowned and started to answer when he was interrupted by a sharp rapping on the door. One of those hateful guards leaned his head into the room and uttered, "My lord, your father the king has requested your presence in the throne room."

Thor sighed, looking down at Loki regretfully. "More matters of state to attend to, I'm afraid. But I'll rest easier knowing you won't be here alone." He moved to take the quill and Loki lunged away from him, clutching it tightly to his chest. Thor frowned and moved toward his brother, who could not retreat any further due to the shackles on his ankles. "Loki, stop it. You know you cannot keep that. If the Allfather found out I'd even let you use it in my presence…."

"Why can't he have the quill?" inquired the sudden voice of the Jotunn girl, who was watching the brothers' struggle for possession of the writing implement. Thor pinned Loki's hands in his lap and managed to wrest it from between his fingers, causing the younger man to choke on a scream of fury. It felt like his shoulder being dislocated again, a part of him breaking off and leaving him undone. _I **need** that!_ He threw himself at Thor and wrestled with his forearms, fighting to snatch the quill back. The god of thunder stepped out of his reach, leaving Loki to claw at the air and strain desperately at his stitches.

Thor gave him another sorrowful look. "My brother is not permitted to have any sharp objects in his possession. He has used even the most ordinary items to cause injury to himself and others, even_ this._" Loki knew Thor was referring to the times when he had given in to anguish and sliced at his own mouth, desperate to get free of the stitches. Any servant or guard who came near to stop him was at risk of being stabbed. Loki only wanted to be left alone to his misery and self-mutilation. Instead they took away his sharp implements and bound his hands and left him trapped in these silent chambers with no way out. He stared pleadingly toward Thor, who looked at the ground. "He will be quite upset after I go, so keep watch from a distance. Give him nothing except water, and do not get within arm's reach. When he calms, you might try reading to him. He enjoys that a great deal."

Loki cried out as Thor moved to leave the room, but his brother set his shoulders in a stiff line and did not look back. "It will be all right, Loki. I'll come again soon." Then he was gone, the door closing loudly behind him. Loki gave a broken wail and threw himself onto his mattress, pounding his fists against the headboard and tearing at the fabric of his pillows. The stitches on his mouth burned like fire. He could feel traitorous tears flaring in his eyes, and a muffled sob tore free of his chest. Then he couldn't stop them and he simply lay facedown on his bed and wept until his head hurt as much as the rest of him. Finally he was too exhausted to cry anymore. He rolled over and stared at the old cracks in his ceiling, which as a boy had soothed him before he fell asleep. He vaguely noticed the Jotunn girl was no longer seated on his headboard, but he was too miserable to care where she had gone. He squeezed his eyes shut and lay still, willing sleep to come and take him from this awful place. Time passed – he didn't know how much, but he could tell from the faint sounds of voices in the hallways and breezes outside. Still rest remained out of his reach. Loki moaned and pressed his hands over his eyes, feeling his head throb and his jaws ache. Why should he expect sleep to be more merciful to him than any other force in this goddamn cosmos? He _hurt._ He hurt so much.

"Pardon me, my prince."

Loki cracked an eye open and wearily observed the Jotunn girl standing in the doorway to the kitchens. She stood out in stark contrast to the cream-colored wallpaper, and she appeared to be clutching a thick tome in her bluish hands. "Your brother said you liked being read to. May I read to you from this book I brought with me? It is a collection of stories called 'creation myths' from the peoples of Midgard."

Loki wondered vaguely how a Jotunn savage had even learned to read, much less gotten ahold of a book from another realm. He stared warily at her but had no energy to protest. She seemed to take his silence as an assent, crossing the room and righting a fallen chair near his bed. Loki noticed that she heeded his brother's warning to stay well out of his reach. She sat down and flipped the book open to what looked to be a table of contents. "I have read them all many times, and they are as strange as they are colorful. The earliest one comes from a place called Mesopotamia. It is called the Enuma Elish, which means "when on high." It says that in the beginning, there were two beings who existed with no maker; Apsu, the god of fresh water, and Tiamat, the goddess of sea water. They came together and brought forth many sons and daughters. In time, the sons began to disregard the orders of their father, so Apsu decided to have them killed. But Tiamat learned of his plans and warned her son, Ea…."

Loki didn't want to, but he couldn't help relaxing as her low, dark voice laid out the tale of a divine family history more lurid and chaotic than even his own. Ea used an incantation to cast his father into an enchanted slumber, then murdered him to avoid his wrath. (Loki recalled the time he had tried a similar trick, only this one ended with him killing his true father instead of Odin.) After becoming the supreme god, Ea had a son of his own called Marduk. Meanwhile Tiamat grieved her husband's death and decided to avenge him by creating eleven monsters of the deep to help her overthrow Ea and the other gods. She also took another husband, Kingu, who was one of the _sons_ she had bourn with Apsu. (Loki made a choked noise of disgust at this.) Marduk, now grown, promised to save the gods from Tiamat and her monsters if they would make him the supreme deity. (Of course he did, because simply being a _god_ wasn't good enough, was it?) They agreed, and Marduk challenged Tiamat to battle and cut her in half, using one half of her body to create the heavens and the other half to form the earth. (What the hell kind of story was this, anyway?)

Loki breathed slowly as he listened. He turned his head very slightly to peek at the Jotunn girl, whose white hair fell loosely over her face as she read about how Marduk had won and killed Kingu, creating from his blood that weaker race known as humans. Loki felt his eyelids growing heavy as the wheels of thought in his mind slowed. He stayed awake long enough to hear the gods declare Marduk supreme and gather in their council chamber to call out the fifty names of his greatness. Loki was asleep before they finished all the names.


	5. Voiceless

**I have been encouraged to update, so update I shall! Enjoy the next chapter, guys. :)**

When Loki awoke the next morning, he was pleased to find that for the first time in recent memory, he felt well-rested. He could not recall having any nightmares while he slept, just a strange dream about a frozen sea. Thinking back, no details came to mind. Loki stretched his arms toward the ceiling and tried to yawn before remembering why he needed to curb that particular reflex. His left shoulder felt much better, only a slight ache in the joint. He glanced around the room and found the water jug sitting on his bedside table again. Pouring a glass, he used the reed to take refreshment and attempted to shift his legs. He grunted in displeasure when he felt his ankles catch on the metal rings that bound them to the posts. _Dammit. Still stuck in this bed._ He looked hopefully for the silver key that would release him, but this time it was missing from the tray. He hadn't really expected the Jotunn girl to be foolish enough to leave it for him, anyway.

Several hours later found Loki lying flat on his back, tossing and catching the water cup repeatedly for want of anything else to do. Now that he was no longer in agonizing pain or afraid for his life, a far more banal emotion had taken over – he was bored. He'd seen no sign of the Jotunn girl all morning, although his ears had picked up a few rustles from the other rooms that suggested she was moving about, probably cleaning. She had left her book of creation myths on the chair by his bed, but his shackles wouldn't allow him to reach it. Not that he cared about primitive Midgardian stories anyway. He just wanted something, anything to take his mind away from this prison. Loki had tried asking Thor to bring him books from the palace library, but communicating which ones he wanted and where they could be found was incredibly difficult when one couldn't speak. Nor could he write, most of the time. The god of mischief clenched his teeth and thought of the quill Thor had taken from him yesterday. It was true that he could not be trusted with sharp objects, but couldn't his brother see that Loki was utterly lost without his words? There had to be something Thor could do to help him.

Finally, when the silence weighed too heavily on him, Loki gripped the water glass as though it were one of his daggers and threw it as hard as he could at the opposite wall. It hit with a satisfying _crunch_ and shattered, pieces raining down like hail. For several moments afterward, his chambers were silent again and Loki squirmed restlessly, not sure exactly why he'd done that.

"My prince."

His eyes found the sitting room doorway, where he could barely see the Jotunn girl peeking her snowy head around the corner. She surveyed the destroyed water glass and sighed. "Is there something you need?"

Loki's mind flashed through all of the things he needed – a quill, food, his voice, more books, a way out of this prison, something to do – and he flinched and groaned softly. The Jotunn girl's eyes sharpened as she stepped into the room. "Are you in pain? Can you show me where?"

Loki glanced at her wearily before dropping his head. She stood there for a long moment before taking his silence as dismissal and retreating back around the corner. Loki made a muffled noise of protest and surprised himself by pointing at the Midgardian book on the chair. The girl's face softened imperceptibly. She crept across the room and retrieved the book, then inched carefully toward him, holding it out with one arm and blocking her face with the other, as if wary he might hurl it right back at her. Loki frowned and shook his head, pointing at her and then at the book. She blinked for a moment, then seemed to comprehend what he wanted. She settled back into the chair and flipped open to the table of contents. "Perhaps my prince would like to hear a story from a place called India? It tells of a great shelled creature called a turtle, vast enough to bear all of Midgard upon its carapace…."

This pattern continued for the next few days. On the second day, Thor finally showed up to free Loki of his chains, and the god of mischief was again permitted to roam his chambers. He didn't try any more overtly violent methods of getting rid of the Jotunn girl, aware that the resulting chaos would give the guards another excuse to bind and injure him. Indeed, she seemed determined to stay out of his sight, a task which she was very good at. She moved as quietly as an animal in the brush, her presence only discernible from the clean rooms and open windows she left behind her. She seemed to like the windows open, which did not bother Loki. What bothered him was the fact that he was _bored._ He languished in his chambers, staring at the walls, until he grew so irritated with the silence that he deliberately knocked over the nearest piece of furniture and waited. Without fail, the noise would bring the Jotunn girl prowling into the room, making sure not to get too close to him. She would right the furniture and give him a _look_ as though he were a particularly stubborn cat before asking if he needed anything. This usually ended with her reading to him from the book of creation myths while Loki relaxed on the sofa. He was perfectly capable of reading to himself, of course, but since he'd been a child Loki had always loved being read to by someone with the proper voice and rhythm. His mother was his favorite reader, of course, but he also liked Thor's deep voice, which was probably why he found the Jotunn girl's reading acceptable. Her voice did not have the ringing bass of his brother; it was distinctly female, yet low and dark as if she were always speaking at midnight underneath a new moon. It made the stories she read sound primordial, as if they were just rolling off the lips of their first tellers back in the dawning age of humanity.

Sometimes she left his chambers and he honestly had no idea where she went. The guards did not seem to give her any trouble in regard to coming and going, (Thor's orders, no doubt,) but he couldn't imagine the people of Asgard were very welcoming to her. He was amazed when she returned one day and offered him a cask of ambrosia and a fine silver bell, which she had apparently bought at the market. "You may ring this when you wish to summon me, my prince." She placed the items in front of him and backed off, casting a dubious look around the battered room. "Now please stop knocking over the furniture."

The ambrosia was heavenly, and Loki suspected she had consulted with Thor to find out his favorite refreshment. What a strange thought, this little Jotunn savage going out of her way to please him. It was the first time in over a year that he had been able to taste anything besides water and blood. Loki refused to show that he was pleased, but he did make an effort to stop upending the furniture when he wanted to call her. It was more fitting for royalty to use a bell when summoning their servants, anyway.

Thor came to visit him and Loki tolerated his presence, so long as he did not talk about his stupid Midgardian friends, the Avengers. Loki was still convinced he could have taken the Earth easily had he not been crippled by the Chitauri's hive mind weakness. Unfortunately, the Jotunn girl was rather keen to hear stories of their "adventures" on earth, and Thor, much like Loki, could never resist a good audience. Since the younger god could not speak, however, she only got to hear Thor's side of things, which Loki punctuated occasionally with vehement shakes of his head and frustrated grunts. Having his lips sewn shut was a maddening ordeal, especially when he had to sit there and listen to Thor bumble his way through describing the events of the heli-carrier and SHIELD. Loki had _meant_ to be captured by them, and Thor had _not_ gone into the Hulk's containment unit on purpose; Loki had tricked him and dropped him from the sky because he was an idiot. At least they would never find out about Loki's humiliating encounter with the green beast; he would take _that_ story to his grave.

"There must be something we can do for my prince to help him communicate more efficiently," the Jotunn girl observed one day after Thor had said something particularly idiotic and Loki was practically shaking with repressed insults. "I think he _really_ wants to tell you off right now."

"My brother's sharp tongue is legendary." Thor gave him a fond but sad smile, and Loki glared back. "Being without the ability to speak is truly devastating for him. It was the most severe punishment Odin could think of as retribution for his crimes."

Loki pulled reflexively at his stitches and kicked the baseboard of his bed, which they were all sitting on. The Jotunn girl was folded on the headboard, and she surveyed him briefly with those slate-grey eyes. "He can still write, as long as his hands aren't bound."

"Not without the Allfather's permission," Thor explained, causing Loki to twitch and growl. "Odin has ordered all sharp and potentially dangerous objects to be kept from him, including writing implements and shears. You weren't here back when he would use them to slice at his face. It was horrifying." Thor shuddered, and Loki remembered endless days of being chained to this bed after each incident, seen by healers who erased the scars but did nothing to quell the agony inside his mind. Thor shook his head slowly. "I would worry for your safety if he were left unsupervised with something he could use to hurt you. He stabbed one of his servants in the eye with a wall ornament. He slashed another's arm open with a quill."

"Loki did not actually remember the first incident, and only recalled vague details of the second. He had been too lost in a haze of rage and terror to even register what he was doing.

The Jotunn girl glanced toward him. "He has broken a lot of things in the short time I've been here."

"Yes, you see, it is far too dangerous to –" Thor sputtered to a halt as Loki fixed him with a pleading gaze and leaned slightly toward him. He hated having to resort to these tactics, but Loki was not above leveraging his status as the little brother if it got him what he wanted. And now he wanted, no, **_needed_** a way to get these burning thoughts out of his head before the pressure cracked his skull.

Thor ran a hand through his golden hair and sighed. "Loki, you know you cannot –"

_"Mmmmnnhhh!"_ Loki protested, gripping Thor's shoulders and shaking him as hard as he could, which was not very hard at all. _Listen to me!_

So then, a means of writing that does not involve sharp or potentially dangerous objects," the Jotunn girl mused aloud as Thor wrestled his distressed younger brother off him.

"Yes, that would be – Loki, stop it – ideal." Thor pinned Loki's arms to his sides and glanced up at her. "Do you know of anything like that?"

"I will look into it," she declared evasively, lowering her legs from the headboard. "May I offer my lords some refreshment?"

Loki did not like the idea of placing something so important to him in the hands of a stranger. He wanted Thor to do it, but his brother clearly couldn't see his way around the Allfather's restrictions. Loki padded sullenly after them into the kitchen and accepted a glass of ambrosia from the Jotunn girl. Thor started talking to her about the markets around Asgard while Loki watched silently, taken by the strangeness of the scene. This was the same creature whom his brother had once reveled in the thought of slaying, and now here he was happily recommending local shops to her. Didn't Thor remember their childhood, the stories, and his own ill-fated trip to Jotunheim which had resulted in his banishment to Midgard? Why was he pretending this little savage wasn't what she clearly was?

When Thor wasn't around, Loki spent a great deal of time pacing, brooding, and staring out the windows. He had tried climbing out on more than one occasion, but the sills were lined with ensnaring runes that afflicted his body with a painful paralysis if he crossed their threshold. From his rooms, Loki could look down over a small section of the main courtyard separated from him by several adjoining walls. On any given day, he saw lords and ladies strolling in the sunlight, servants hurrying about with parcels under their arms, and all manner of hounds and birds and winged horses and any other animals kept by the courtiers for amusement. Loki's only amusement was in glowering at them and imagining the havoc he'd wreak upon their pretty lives if he had his magic restored to him.

Sometimes, if he timed it just right, he could glimpse the distant figure of his mother as she walked toward her gardens, surrounded by her attendants and various noblewomen. It was considered a great honor to be invited to accompany Queen Frigga on one of her afternoon retreats, and many court ladies openly vied for the privilege. He would watch as she passed, accounting for all the faces within her circle of favor. It was an old habit; knowing who stood where on the complex and intrigue-laden social ladder of the court had served him well all his life. Not that it would do him any good now; Loki was quite certain he no longer had a place on that ladder from which to manipulate the other players. Still, his tired eyes always lingered on his mother's glossy hair and warm smile until she disappeared from view, leaving him empty and alone.

One day Loki was leaning against the sill, staring after her as a soft breeze brushed his face. Winter had given way to a sun-filled Spring and the flowering trees in her garden would be budding. He barely heard the rustle of footsteps behind him, followed by a low voice. "She's very beautiful."

Loki turned around to see the Jotunn girl standing by the sofa, holding a slim book with strange designs on the cover. "Your mother." She nodded toward the open window, but Loki glimpsed a spark of pain flash through her dark eyes like a meteor across the night sky. She broke eye contact and turned away, not expecting a response from the mute prince. As he watched her leave, Loki experienced a strange desire to call her back to him. He wanted to ask what her new book was about. He wanted to find out where she'd come from, and why she had left that place to come _here._ He wanted to know if she really intended to help him find some means of communication to replace his desperate need to speak. But of course, it was no use trying to say any of that. The words were sitting heavily on his tongue, pressing against the inside of his mouth, but he couldn't get them out. Loki ran his fingers over his tightly stitched lips and squeezed the sill with his other hand until he felt his bones grating against the wood. He stayed like this for a long time, hunched over the window with hands shaking as he felt the pressure inside his head build into a searing migraine. _I need to scream._


	6. Loki Sends A Message

Eventually Loki stopped keeping track of how many days the Jotunn girl had been here. She was here now, and it was clear she was determined to stay. Overall, Loki discovered she was a quiet, diligent creature, and if she hadn't been a savage he might have even found her presence acceptable. Loki didn't know how she managed it, but she seemed to always be doing something. She kept his chambers clean and ensured that his clothes were sent to be laundered. She brought him fresh water several times a day and drew him a warm bath every evening. She didn't talk much, but she read to him whenever he wanted and gave him healing salve to ease the pain his stitches caused. She was still careful to stay several feet away from him and never turn her back, often pacing around him in a wide half-circle when she needed to pass as if he were a dangerous animal. This annoyed Loki, but he could not tell her to stop. He couldn't tell her anything, and the torment having all his thoughts trapped in his head sent him into wild fits of rage sometimes. This usually resulted in him hurling things at her, which sent her running out of the room with her hands over her head, only to emerge from hiding several hours later to fix whatever destruction he had wrought. Sometimes these incidents resulted in him being chained to the bed for long periods, which was its own form of restless torture. During these times she inexplicably treated him like a sick child, arranging pillows to keep him comfortable and reading stories until he fell asleep. This sort of behavior stung Loki's pride, but it was better than being ignored like he was_ nothing._

In fact, the Jotunn girl displayed several habits that struck him as very odd. For one, she didn't seem to have a set time or place for sleeping. His chambers had a servant's bedroom adjoining the kitchen, but she seemed to regard it as just another room to clean. He regularly found her sleeping curled up in the windowsill, on the sofa, on top of the cupboards, and once, in the linen closet. She could stay up for several nights at a time and then, randomly, she would finish her chores and fall fast asleep in the middle of the day. She was very hard to wake up. Loki tried once, out of sheer boredom, and it took pushing her off the sofa and throwing a jug of water in her face to finally rouse her. Once she awakened, she was so cross that she growled at him and hid for the rest of the day.

Her ability to hide from him was another thing that unnerved Loki. He had dwelt in these chambers nearly all his life, knew every nook and cranny from floor to ceiling, and yet he still couldn't find her when she didn't want to be found. She moved so quietly that she could be in the next room and he wouldn't know it until she poked her head around the corner. It was like living with a semi-feral cat, one that cleaned instead of making messes.

Even so, she and Thor were his only links to the outside world, and he could not depend on Thor for everything. One day, after his brother had been absent for a week (leaving Loki feeling both depressed and in fierce denial of said depression,) the god of mischief decided to approach her with an important request. He thought long and hard on how to accomplish this without the ability to speak and no implements to help him write. Finally, he concluded that he would simply have to improvise and rang the silver bell he carried in his pocket. He didn't hear her approach, but a flash of blue alerted him that she was standing in the doorway behind him. Turning, he met her slate-grey eyes as she gazed up at him. "Yes, my prince? Do you need something?"

Loki nodded and tugged irritably at his stitches, cursing them inside his head. The girl took a small step into the room. "Don't do that. You'll hurt yourself."

Loki gestured toward the open window leading to the courtyard. The girl peered carefully over the sunlit grounds. "What is it? Something out there you want me to see?"

He shook his head and pointed to himself, then made a circling motion with his fingers above his head. The girl gazed upward in obvious confusion and Loki growled and pressed hard against his sealed mouth. _"Mmmmnnnhhh hhhhh nnggggghhhh."_

The Jotunn girl stared at him sympathetically, which was _not_ what Loki wanted. She shook her head and told him gently, "I don't think trying to speak is going to help you much. Perhaps you could spell it into my palm, like you do with your brother sometimes….?" She offered her azure hand and Loki immediately smacked it aside with a grimace of disgust. Allowing her to tend his chambers was one thing, but actually _touching_ her – he shuddered at the memory of the cold, bluish tinge that made his skin look so alien. The girl gave him a deadpan stare and crossed her arms. "Alright then, how do you propose to help me understand what you want?"

Loki groaned and pulled at his hair in frustration before glancing suddenly toward the kitchen and striding through the doorway. The Jotunn girl followed several steps behind and ducked instinctively when he picked up a leftover jar of flour from the counter. Instead of throwing it at her, he overturned it upon the unused table, causing a billowing cloud of white to envelop them. Ignoring her gasp of horror, he grabbed a ladle and used it to spread the flour evenly across the table. As the dust began to settle, he used his finger to write in small, elegant script: _I want to see my mother._

The Jotunn girl stared at him in clear displeasure. "I just cleaned this kitchen."

Loki grunted and pointed insistently at the message. She read it and sighed, brushing flour dust from her tunic. "All right, I understand. How does that work?"

Underneath his first message, Loki wrote another. _You have to tell her._

"Me?" The girl raised her silvery eyebrows. "You expect _me_ to just walk up to your mother, the Queen of Asgard, and tell her – well, anything?"

Loki was well aware that Frigga's attendants were unlikely to allow a Jotunn savage anywhere near their Queen. Still, it was his only chance to get the message through to her. He wrote, _My mother will not harm you if you come bearing a message from me._

"Why can't you ask your brother?" she inquired, causing Loki to growl lowly. He used his palm to smooth out the flour so he could write a new message atop the table. _He will not do it for me._

"Why not?" she asked curiously.

Loki snarled and slammed his fists upon the table, causing a smaller cloud of dust to billow up. _"Mmmmnnnhhhh!"_

"All right, I understand. Calm down." Her voice took on a soothing cadence as she circled the table. "I will tell your mother you wish to see her."

Loki took several deep breaths and wrote, _Go now._

"Yes, my prince." She bowed slightly and left through the main door, still wiping flour off her bluish skin.

Dusting off his hands, Loki crossed the room and sat down heavily by the counter. He was pleased with himself for finally finding a way to give commands, as inefficient as it was, but success was far from assured. Frigga's attendants would no doubt attempt to drive the Jotunn girl away on sight. Or she could simply claim to have passed the message on, knowing that he could not talk to anyone else to ascertain the truth. Even if she did get the message through, there was still the chance that his mother might not come to him. In the beginning months of his captivity, watching him tear himself and everything around him apart like a madman had been very hard on her. With a twinge of guilt, Loki recalled her tear-stained face the last time he had seen her, before Thor had wrapped his arms around her and led her away. He clenched his fists and bowed his head, resting his forehead against the cool countertop. He did not want to hurt his mother. She had been kind to him all his life. Kind, even though he struggled to please his father and lived perpetually in his brother's shadow. Generous, teaching him her magical abilities and comforting him when they were scorned by the court. Being apart from her was painful, especially when she was so near he could see her.

It should take only an hour at most to pass on a message, yet the Jotunn girl was absent for the rest of the day. Loki paced and stared out the window until the sun had left the sky and there was nothing to see. Then he sat in his bedchamber and stared at the door leading out into the palace. Around midnight there was a brief scuffle outside, followed by the door swinging open and allowing the Jotunn girl to practically fall into the room. She slammed it in the guards' perplexed faces and leaned against the wall, breathing raggedly. Her tunic was rumpled and torn, and her hair had gone from looking like a snowdrift to a blizzard. She straightened up when she spotted him, and gave a curt nod. "I have done as my prince has asked." Then she turned and stumbled wearily into the sitting room.

Loki stood and followed her, unsatisfied with this limited report. From the doorway, he watched her perform an ungainly faceplant into the sofa cushions, then lie still as someone fallen from a great height. He crossed the room and settled cautiously into the chair beside the sofa, expecting her to leap up and run away, but she did not move. He knew she could not have fallen asleep that quickly, but she made a good impression of it. He noticed a bruise blossoming on the ridge of her left shoulder, as if someone had grabbed her or struck her. Instead of flushing red or brown, it was quickly becoming a dark, swollen purple. Gingerly, he reached out to touch it and withdrew at the last second, curling his fingers away from her injured flesh. He set his hands solidly in his lap and leaned against the chair back, staring into the black void outside his window. Time passed in slow, steady breaths. Once he glanced toward her and caught her peeking up at him through a sliver of an open eye, before she closed it again and he looked away. He stayed in the chair beside her until they both fell asleep.

He realized only later that it was the first time she had allowed herself to be vulnerable around him.

The following morning Loki was awoken by the sound of heavy boots on the floor in front of him. He barely had time to open his eyes before he was seized by the arms and hauled upright into a cacophony of glinting armor and blaring voices.

"Keep his arms pinned, don't let him fight –"

"Give me the chain –"

"He's a feisty bastard, don't underestimate him. He can do a lot of damage –"

"Get his legs –"

A frightened cry rose in his throat and was smothered behind his sealed lips. Loki struggled and twisted about as his wrists were forced into shackles and a thick chain was slung around his waist and connected to them, leaving him defenseless. He was shoved against the sofa and forcibly bent at the waist while his legs were restrained in a similar fashion. His immediate reflex was to gasp for breath, but he couldn't get his mouth open and there were so many hands holding him and the terror was so sharp it _hurt –_

Loki felt his body go limp as he slid to the floor, the figures around him withdrawing and letting him drop. He tried desperately to curl into a defensive position, but the chains were so tight he could barely move. Gazing upward, he saw an unwelcome cloud of leering faces gathered above him. His eyes darted from one to the next, trying to figure out what they were going to do to him. A broad-faced man whom Loki recognized as the one who had dislocated his shoulder stepped forward and grinned. "Good news, my lord!" he exclaimed, his voice a mockery of reverence. "Our gracious Queen has commanded that you be brought to visit with her in her gardens this afternoon."

Loki blinked in surprise and tried to sit up, his worthless efforts eliciting sniggers from the guards. His mother….wanted to see him? But then why….?

"As you know," the swarthy guard continued, "your father the king has given orders that you are never allowed to leave these chambers without being securely restrained. So we thought we'd get that out of the way first and leave you to get comfortable until our Queen deigns to see you."

Loki glared indignantly, hating their condemning stares. Why were they doing this to him? _Ah, yes, because they can._ He squirmed and pulled at the stitches on his mouth until his silent struggles were interrupted by a loud, angry voice. "You didn't have to ambush him like that! You could have hurt him! You're supposed to –"

Loki turned his head to see the bluish figure of the Jotunn girl emerge from a shadowy corner, pointing accusingly at the guard's face. No sooner did she reach him than he drew his sword and slammed the hilt into her stomach, causing her to choke as her face contorted in pain. She hit the floor with a heavy _thud_ and Loki snarled at the man, hating him, hating them all, wanting to rip them apart with the strongest spells he knew and mount their heads on pikes and gouge out their loathsome eyes for good measure –

The guard sheathed his sword while the others gave grunts of approval. "Savage filth like you shouldn't dare speak to true Aesir men. Be grateful I didn't use the sharp end this time, beast." Then he turned on his heel and strode from the room, followed by his fellows. Loki could hear them muttering and laughing amongst themselves before the heavy entrance door swung shut. He gritted his teeth and strained to pull himself off the floor, but he only managed to roll onto his side before he reached the limit of motion his chains allowed. Moaning softly, he let his head fall against the hard tiles and stared helplessly across the room.

"M – my prince…."

Loki heard a shuffle of movement behind him and turned his head enough to see the Jotunn girl crawling slowly over to him. She kept one hand pressed to her side and eased the other underneath his shoulders, guiding his upper body to rest in the surprising warmth of her lap. Long blue fingers gently smoothed his hair out of his eyes as she grimaced in pain and leaned heavily against the sofa's back. "It's….it's all right now….they're gone. They're gone now. Are you hurt?"

Loki shut his eyes and turned his face aside, thinking that he barely remembered a time when he had not been hurt in some form. He didn't realize his hands were shaking until he felt a pair of smaller, colder ones squeeze his fingers gently. Any other time, Loki would have pulled away in indignation, but right now his hands were chained and there was no one else to see and if he kept his eyes closed he didn't have to see it either. That frigid change which slowly overtook his body, travelling up his veins and past his elbows. Loki didn't know why, but he squeezed harder and the bitter cold felt good.


	7. Mother And Son

**Hey guys! I hope you like the new chapter! I worked especially hard on this one - we've got a lot of ground to cover and I've been really busy lately. Still, I managed to write a little bit each night and finish it by the end of the week. Enjoy!**

By the time the guards returned to his chambers, the Jotunn girl had moved Loki onto the sofa, righted the furniture they had knocked over in their scuffle, and vanished into the servant's bedroom with no explanation. Loki worried that she was going to fall asleep again and leave him on his own, but when they heard the ringing footfalls down the hall, she emerged from the bedroom looking markedly different. She had changed out of her ripped, rumpled tunic and put on a new one he had never seen before. It was light purple, and it blended well with her pale blue skin. She had combed her frazzled hair and put it back in a simple braid, and she was wearing a small pendant around her neck. Loki watched her as she crossed the room and helped him to his feet. His shackles had already become uncomfortable, holding his body in a state of constant tension. His mind was racing as the guards entered the room, a dizzying mixture of fear and anticipation. He was desperate to get out of these chambers after months of imprisonment, and even more so to finally see his mother. But the thought of the journey from here to there was nauseating. He would have to walk through the court flanked by guards, chained up like an animal. He would have to endure the stares of everyone, from the lowliest chambermaids to the grandest courtiers, as they gawked at his disfigured lips and weakened frame. And the way his ankles were fettered only allowed for an agonizingly slow pace. He felt a twinge of envy as he watched the Jotunn girl raise the hood of her tunic to cover her face.

His sense of dread increased as the guards approached and proceeded to manhandle him, checking his shackles to make sure they held. He felt the chain around his waist pulled tighter, forcing a whine of discomfort past his stitched lips. Loki tried not to look at any of them, tried to keep his head held high and his eyes impassive – they were all beneath him, mongrels and commoners, dirt under his feet. Then his head was jerked around and he found himself staring into the grinning face of his main tormentor as the man shoved a metal ring around his neck. Loki balked at this, but the lock snapped shut and the man pulled hard on the chain attached to it, causing Loki to stumble forward. At that moment the Jotunn girl, who had been circling the rabble like a bird of prey, darted into the group and seized the chain from his hands. She latched onto Loki's arms and pulled him away with surprising strength, taking up a defensive posture in front of him. He noticed she was gripping the candelabra he had used against her when they first met. "Don't do that to him! He is your prince."

The guard put his hand on the hilt of his sword as the others moved to flank him. "Didn't I warn you not to speak to us, you little beast?"

"You are all unworthy of the armor you wear." She hefted the candelabra and seemed ready to use it to test the protection of their helmets when a smaller, seedier-looking man intervened.

"Now lads, let's not let this get out of hand. Mummy won't like it if we rough up her little boy before she sees him." Loki glowered and pulled at his chains while the other guards chuckled harshly.

The swarthy one narrowed his eyes at the slim blue figure in front of Loki. "Queen won't give a damn about this one, though. What say a few of us stay behind with her, make sure she knows her place?"

The seedy man shook his head nervously. "That won't do, Iron. Her Grace has ordered us to bring the savage girl as well. It'll look bad if she's too damaged."

The guard called Iron snorted. "Since when has damaging a Jotunn beast ever looked _bad?_ What the hell's this world coming to?" He flung his hand from his sword in disgust and pointed at the pair of them. "Fine, we'll settle this disagreement later. Her Majesty is waiting for us to bring the monsters."

Loki felt a prickle of electricity run up his spine as the Jotunn girl reluctantly put down the candelabra and allowed the guards to lead them from the room. _Monsters._ These brainless oafs looked at her and him and saw the same thing. This was exactly what he'd feared when he first saw her standing in the doorway of his chambers. This association, this equation between them was more dangerous for his future than any number of malevolent guards. It would follow him far longer than any physical injury they could inflict.

Loki was so lost in this new cloud of worry that he didn't properly register where they were until they reached the main causeway. Then he blinked, startled by the noise, the bustle, the blur of colors which he'd once found so familiar. Finally, after all these months, he was _outside._ But the reception that greeted him here was hardly welcoming. It seemed like the entire court had come to spectate the first appearance of their fallen prince in over half a year. On the causeway, in the courtyard, in the pavilions above, everywhere he looked there were faces he had known all his life. Some of them wore sneers, others were twisted in disgust. He heard many court ladies gasp at the sight of his stitched lips. Children stood on their tiptoes to see over each other. Loki halted, feeling a dizzying sense of déjà vu overtake him. This was too much like his sentencing; the crowds turned out to watch him receive his punishment, the murmuring and pointing, the chains, the fear. They had already made up their minds about him; he knew it from the way their eyes hardened in silent judgement. The trickster, the mischief-maker, the silvertongue, the god of lies. He had been a lost cause from the moment he was born.

He felt a rough shove on his shoulder as the swarthy guard commanded, "Walk." Loki staggered but found that he couldn't get his legs to move in coordinated fashion. Something was wrong with them – with him – he could feel the heat from hundreds of eyes as it scalded his flesh. He was burning, feverish. He was suffocating under the weight of their stares. _I can't do this._ He felt the chain around his neck jerk him forward and he fought to keep from being dragged out into the crowd. _I can't do this._ He knew that resisting only made it worse, created more of a spectacle for them to gawk at, but suddenly his body was rigid with panic and he couldn't breathe. The guard yanked harder on his lead and Loki stumbled forward as his ankles caught on the chain running between them, bringing him sharply to his knees. _No, please, no. Not this._ The air rang with laughter as he struggled to get up, but the chain wouldn't allow him to maneuver his legs enough to stand, and his shackled hands were useless. He wanted so badly to cover his face. He wanted to disappear like one of his illusions. The gardens. He had to get to the gardens. Loki looked wildly around at his guards, realizing he needed someone to help him stand, but they had all stepped away from him and the crowd was inching closer, their eyes charged with malicious enjoyment. For years he had been above them, an infuriating, unreachable trickster who made games of their lives and ambitions. Now he was on his knees only a few feet away, unprotected and powerless. They were going to take their time. They were going to have their fun mocking him. _Thor. Mother. Someone help me. I can't do this._

Just as quickly as they had approached, the crowd suddenly drew back like a receding tide. A long, hissing gasp rang out across the courtyard. Looks of shock and horror overtook their faces, but they were no longer staring at him. Loki twisted his body in the direction of their gazes and beheld the slim figure of the Jotunn girl, who had stepped out from behind the guards and stood before the vast crowd with a strange expression on her face. Her face. He could _see her face,_ and they could too. She had lowered her hood, and now she was standing before them with her blue skin exposed to the light of day. Underneath the glaring sun, she looked wilder and more foreign then anything he had ever seen. _What the hell is she doing?_

The Jotunn girl regarded the court with impassive eyes, taking her time to peer into their shocked faces in the silence that followed her emergence. Even the guards seemed unnerved by this completely unforeseen turn of events. Loki tried again and failed to climb to his feet, and she turned toward him and spoke so softly he could barely catch her words. "My prince, please be calm. Not one of these people will harm you. You are safe." He fixed his eyes on her so he wouldn't have to look at them. She came a few steps closer and reached out to him. "May I help you to stand?"

Loki nodded because he had no choice. He would do anything to get away from these poisonous stares, anything to stop feeling what they made him feel. She nodded once and circled around him, placing her hands under his shoulders. He leaned his full weight upon her as she eased him to his feet and steadied him. "You're all right. It's all right," she murmured as if speaking to a frightened animal. "We're almost there. We just have to make it through the courtyard. I'm going to go first, and you'll follow me. And don't be afraid. No one will stare at you." She raised her snowy head and gave him a smile so wide and genuine it left him stunned. "They'll all be looking at _me._"

With that, she drew her shoulders back and strode into the crowd, which retreated at her approach like they were oil and she was water. Loki clenched his fists and forced himself to move forward in her wake, stepping carefully so as not to risk falling again. _Almost there. Almost there._ He'd barely made it a few paces when the whispering began from all sides.

"Is that….what I think it is?"

"Is that one of those _things?_"

"A Jotunn?"

"A savage."

"A frost giant!"

"I don't believe it."

"Why aren't the guards doing anything?"

"What is it doing here?"

"Someone should kill it!"

"It's so _blue._ And look at that hair!"

"What a ghastly shade."

"What does it want?"

"Stay out of the way! Get back!"

"Why was it talking with the prince?"

"Did someone bring it here on purpose?"

"Look at that _hair._"

"Is it a gift from Jotunheim? For _him?_"

"Is it because he's….?"

"….one of _them?_"

Loki flinched as though he'd been struck and glanced around wildly. He wished he could walk faster, or run, or simply melt into the ground. After a moment of blinding panic, however, he realized no one was staring back at him. They had all lost interest in watching his humiliation; now they only had eyes for _her._ The Jotunn girl strolled ahead of him at a leisurely pace, peering closely at everyone she passed, which seemed to frighten them. Her posture was perfectly erect, like a performer coming onstage for a curtain call. The movement of her body seemed to invite their gaze, from the sway of her shoulders to the curve of her bare legs. Her white hair practically shone in the sun, threatening to pierce the eyes of any who looked too long. And the placid expression on her face suggested she had absolutely no idea how hideous she was.

Loki felt his heart rate begin to settle now that he was no longer the object of their scrutiny and scorn. He kept walking, focusing on the pale braid falling down the middle of her back. At some point the guards fought their way through the crowd and re-took their positions around him, but he barely noticed them. They were on the stairs leading down from the courtyard; now they were crossing the walkway and passing under the arch; now they were through the main gate, beyond which the crowd could not follow them. Loki nearly collapsed in relief when he heard the gate swing shut, muting all those hateful voices and leaving only the stillness of Frigga's private gardens.

The swarthy guard seized his lead chain and pulled him roughly down the path toward his mother's favorite gazebo. The Jotunn girl fell back and trailed behind them once more, silent as a cat. She seemed completely unaffected by the journey here, her eyes a solid wall of grey. Loki wondered how well she understood the consequences of showing herself before the court like that. Before he could decide how he felt about it, he heard a stirring up ahead and a blessedly welcome voice rang in his ears. "Loki! Oh, Loki!"

He turned and found himself enveloped in his mother's arms, and for a moment all his fears vanished. She was warm and bright, robed in smooth silks and smelling of her favorite springtime gardenias. She pressed her lips to his cheek and cradled his hands in her own, and Loki let himself be consumed by her affection. It had been so long and it startled him, this feeling of someone wanting to be near him with no reservations. He leaned his forehead against her shoulder and closed his eyes. She took a deep, shuddering breath and squeezed him tightly. "_Loki._ Oh, my son, my son. I've missed you so terribly."

Loki made a hushed sound deep in his throat and Frigga seemed to understand what he meant. She settled her hand in the crook of his elbow and guided him gently toward the gazebo. "Come sit with me, dear. I can't tell you how glad I am to see you again. When I heard that –"

"Pardon me, your grace," the swarthy guard cut in, forcing Loki to stop as he pulled against his lead chain. "We have been tasked with keeping the prisoner secure and preventing any harm he may cause to your noble personage. If you would please –"

"Your assistance is appreciated, Sir Iron, but I will be perfectly fine in the company of my son. You may remain within eyesight, but I insist you give us privacy to visit in a dignified manner," Frigga said in a firm voice that demanded obedience. "Also, remove that vile thing from his neck."

Sir Iron grimaced but did as he was told, and Loki felt a weight lift off his shoulders as the man unlocked the heavy collar from his throat. He gave his mother a grateful glance as she waved dismissively at the guards, causing them to shamble away dejectedly and take up position at the far end of the garden. Sir Iron shot him one last loathing look, which Loki returned in full force. The next moment, his mother's eyes shifted past him and settled on the Jotunn girl standing unobtrusively by the hedges. "You must be…." She trailed off and stared, seeming at a loss for words. He nudged her gently and she recovered, shaking her glossy head. "Ah, very well. You may wait here. Come, Loki."

Loki allowed his mother to lead him into the gazebo and settle down beside him on the reclining couch. He took a deep breath and gazed around, reveling in the fact that he was here with her. The sun shone warmly on the beds of flowers lining the lawn around them. The gazebo itself was a small, cozy nook outfitted with comfortable furnishings and Frigga's tasteful style of décor. He had been here many times before, and he always came away feeling calm and refreshed. Loki made a mental note to try not to throw anything at the Jotunn girl for at least a week. Savage though she was, if it weren't for her he would likely still be stuck on his knees in the middle of that noxious crowd, silently screaming for a way out.

"You look so pale, dear." Frigga touched his cheek, and Loki forced his thoughts away from what he'd just endured. She peered into his eyes and ran her fingers gently over his tightly sewn lips. Loki would not have allowed anyone else to touch his stitches, but he bowed his head and let his mother fuss over him like she had often done when he was younger. "It looks dreadful, but at least the wounds have healed. Does it still cause you pain?"

Loki nodded vehemently and Frigga bit her lip and laid a hand on his shoulder. "You must be so hungry. You need nourishment and proper care. Do the healers give you anything for the pain?"

He shook his head and shifted uncomfortably, trying to adjust his chained limbs. Now that he was finally with his mother, Loki ached to confess everything about the new life he was condemned to – the loneliness, the misery, the desperation, and the fear – but his voice was sealed inside him and even if he'd had a quill, he wouldn't have been able to write with his hands shackled. He gave Frigga a despairing look and tugged slightly at his stitches. She winced and moved to grip his hands in hers. "I know, dear. I know. Please don't pull, it won't help."

_"Nnnnmmhhhh."_ Loki gritted his teeth and squeezed her hands, trying to communicate his frustration and need. Frigga stroked his palm and murmured comforts to him until he stilled.

"Thor tells me you are often unwell when he comes to visit." Loki rolled his eyes and grunted, and his mother smiled thinly. "I know you and your brother have a history of being at odds, but Thor has come a long way from the rambunctious boy he used to be. He cares about you and is honestly trying to do right by you. If you let him in, he can offer a great deal of support."

Once again, a million replies rose in his throat and he had to swallow hard to suppress them. Loki looked away and Frigga continued gently, "Besides, if you can exercise better control of your anger, you'll be afforded more privileges to help make your imprisonment bearable."

Loki was not interested in being tamed like a captive animal. The only thing that would make this punishment bearable was its end. He struggled to adjust the chain latched around his waist, which was fastened so tightly he could feel his lower ribs bruising.

"Does that hurt you, Loki?" Frigga eyed him with concern. "I instructed your guards to treat you with care, and your father has assured me –"

_"Hhhhhhmmmm! Nnnnnn hhhmmmmm."_ Loki pulled harder at his stitches this time, realizing with a sinking heart that he was powerless to tell his mother the truth of what had been going on away from her supervision. The guards had treated him better when he received regular visits from Frigga and Thor, but as the former had stopped visiting and the latter came less often, their façade of respect had given way to brutality and torment. And they knew he couldn't tell anyone; that was why they weren't concerned with manhandling him even when he was allowed outside his chambers. Loki struggled fiercely against the bindings that kept him locked in silent submission, but he only managed to exhaust himself and alarm his mother, who pulled him sideways to lean against her.

"I'm sorry, dear. I didn't mean to upset you by mentioning him."

Loki moaned in frustration and stared up at her, trying to communicate with his eyes. Frigga embraced him and Loki wished he could stay in her maternal protection forever, just as she had protected him from the scorn of the court as a child. He felt so tired and so weak. Time passed and his breathing slowed as he stared across the gardens, watching the distant figure of the Jotunn girl standing by the hedges. Frigga followed his gaze. "Has that one been kind to you?"

Loki nodded grudgingly and she smiled and rubbed his shoulder. "Good. I don't know precisely from where Thor got her, but he seemed convinced she would be a good attendant for you. I know it's not easy." Frigga's face took on a sharper expression. "And I know you don't want to think about it….your father, and the choices he made that impacted your life. But you _need_ to consider the future, dear." Loki tilted his head to look up at her quizzically, and she pursed her lips. "Odin will not be king of Asgard forever."

Loki made a low, growling sound and Frigga patted his head soothingly. "I don't know how many years more he intends to rule, but Odin is old and tired, and your brother is young and strong. He will inevitably pass his kingship on to Thor –" Loki squirmed irritably at this idea – "and at that point all the responsibilities of the realm will go to him as well. Including your custody as a prisoner."

Loki blinked, surprised that his mother was bringing up this point. He knew that Thor would be king – knew it was as inevitable as the sunrise in the morning – but he didn't like to think about the finer details of where that left him. Stranded in captivity, he would be passed on to his brother and bound to his will just as he was currently bound to Odin's. Then Thor would be in charge of deciding his fate.

"Your brother loves you," Frigga insisted, tilting Loki's chin up to look her in the eye. "He will be merciful to you if you give him half a reason to do so. Your crimes are great, my son, but if you can show remorse for your actions and obedience to your brother's will, I am sure he will reduce the severity of your sentence. Perhaps he will even give you back your silver tongue." She tapped fondly on the corner of his mouth and Loki squeezed his eyes shut, feeling a wild conflict of emotions roil inside him. He knew Thor would treat him better than Odin. But he chafed at the thought of living under his brother's control. He _wanted_ to be spared from this pitiful condition, but he hated the idea of begging Thor for mercy. His pride, or what little there was left of it, would never recover from a blow like that. All his life he had fought against the unspoken assertion that Thor was better than him, more powerful, more worthy. If he knelt at his feet then he would finally be forced to acknowledge it as truth.

Frigga stroked his dark hair and reached for a book lying on the wicker table. "Would you like me to read to you, dear? It seems so long ago that we diverted ourselves with this story. I recall we were about halfway through when….when the Bifrost incident happened. After I learned you had fallen, I closed the book and never picked it up again." She shut her eyes briefly. "But now that you've returned, perhaps we can finally finish it?"

Loki nodded eagerly and tried to smile at her, though he was only able to manage a brief twitch of his lips. Frigga patted his hand and opened the text to the page where they had left off so long ago, before New York and the Chitauri, before Thor's banishment and Loki's attempt to take his place as successor to the throne. Before he had known anything about the horrendous truth of his heritage and felt his sense of identity destroyed by it. He closed his eyes and listened to his mother's voice and let himself believe that this was all there was, just them and the book and the gazebo floating through empty space between the world-tree's branches, out where no one else could reach them.


	8. One Word Is All It Takes

**Hello again! It's been a while. We're all hiding from the coronavirus over here, so I figured this is a good time to finally get some writing done. Hope you like the new chapter, and give a shout if you want more! Stay healthy and stay safe, everyone! **

Loki didn't want the visit to end, but after several hours it was time for Frigga to return to the palace and join her husband for dinner. Loki could smell the savory aromas of roasting meat and spiced fruits, and it made his stomach clench painfully. Frigga noticed his discomfort, and before they parted ways she instructed the Jotunn girl to go to the infirmary and obtain some nutrient-infused spring water for him. The blue-skinned creature nodded and slipped away as Loki leaned into his mother's parting embrace, wishing he could return it. He wanted to ask her if they could visit again soon, even though it made him feel like a needy child. He inwardly breathed in relief when she ordered the guards to escort him back to his room through the lower levels of the palace. Frigga gently kissed his cheek and Loki winced as she pulled away and gave him a familiar sad smile. "I'll see you again, my son."

Loki watched her walk away up the hedge-lined path and depart through the main gate. He was suddenly aware of how alone he was, surrounded by a contingent of unfriendly guards who hardly counted as company. He was held in place as the collar was re-attached and its chain pulled taut, forcing him to stagger along behind the guards as they led him through the lower levels, back to his prison. As they drew up to the doors of his chambers, Loki blinked in surprise as several palace servants briskly exited and took their leave down the corridor. Of course, Odin had probably sent them while he was away to make sure he didn't have any forbidden items in his rooms. Loki set his jaw and shuffled slowly through the doorway, wondering when he would next be able to leave. He expected the guards to remove his shackles once they were inside, but instead they simply shoved him onto the bed and left, ignoring his muffled protests. The god of mischief lay still, straining to breathe even though the chain around his waist made every breath painful. He closed his eyes and finally allowed himself to process the terror he'd felt when he was on his knees with the crowd closing in around him. It wasn't right for a prince to be afraid of his subjects. It was shameful, demeaning. Just one more weakness for Odin to use against him. Loki crushed his teeth together and growled.

He felt slightly better when he heard the door slide open to admit a hushed patter of bare feet. The bed creaked as the Jotunn girl climbed onto the headboard. He peered over to see her staring down at him, holding a large cask of spring water from the infirmary. "Would you like me to help you out of those chains, my prince?" He nodded emphatically and was surprised when she reached into her pocket and produced a large ring of keys. She placed the cask of water on the bedside table and crept closer to him. "I swiped these on the way to the gardens." She twirled the key ring around a long blue finger and stared at Loki cautiously. "May I touch you?"

He thought for a moment and decided that he wanted the chains off badly enough to allow it. Nodding, he grimaced as she wrapped her cold arms around his shoulders and maneuvered him to lean against the headboard. She handled him like she was holding something breakable. Loki didn't understand this treatment, but at least it was better than being mangled and bruised. He held still as she swiftly unlocked each restraint and dragged the chains off his body. He could feel the rawness of his wrists and ribs and ankles. Finally free, he moved each limb carefully and settled into a more comfortable posture. The girl poured a glass of spring water and offered it to him, along with the reed from his bedside table. He drank slowly and felt his gnawing hunger begin to ebb away. He was suddenly aware of how exhausted he was. How quiet it was in his chambers. Slowly, he allowed his body to slump sideways against the headboard as his eyelids fluttered closed. The last thing he recalled was the feeling of someone sliding a soft pillow under his head.

Loki awoke to a sound like cannon fire, sending a panicked jolt through his unwary nerves. He scrambled upright, glancing about wildly until his eyes settled on a red and gold figure standing in the doorway. A few bleary blinks later and the image of Thor swam into focus, grinning obliviously as if it were totally normal to enter someone's room by nearly breaking down the door. Loki's first thought was to throw something at him, but before he could move Thor had strode over to his bedside and sat down with a frame-shaking thump. "Hello, brother! I have just returned from a hunting expedition in the mountains, and I heard a rumor of your visit with mother!"

Loki blinked at him, trying to clear the disoriented haze around the edges of his mind. How long had he been asleep? What day was it? Deciding that it didn't matter, he tossed his head and gave his brother a defiant stare. Thor had the decency to look slightly abashed. "Come now, brother, don't look at me like that. You know it was never my intention to separate you from mother. I was only concerned about the emotional toll it would take on her to see you in such a….state." Thor eyed him uncomfortably for a moment before reverting back to his usual grin and clapping him on the back, causing Loki to suppress a muffled groan. "But you seem much better now! I heard that you and mother spent time in her gardens, just as you always used to. She looked to be in good spirits when I spoke with her an hour ago."

Settling back against the headboard, Loki glanced toward the open window and pulled slightly at his stitches. Thor watched him earnestly for several moments before scooting closer. "Come on, brother," he implored, holding out a large hand. "Talk to me."

Loki eyed him warily before allowing himself to take the hand and move his opposite finger across Thor's wide, rough palm, tracing letters. _I want to visit her again soon._

Thor nodded easily. "I will speak with our parents about it. Provided your condition continues to improve, I don't see why father would object."

Loki's hand tightened around Thor's wrist as he pressed the next words hard into his flesh. _He's not my father._

"Loki…."

_He doesn't care for me. He hasn't come to see me once since he did this to me._ Loki stabbed a finger toward his sewn mouth and looked away across the room. _I'm not his son. I'm not even of the Aesir line, and it was cruel of him to make me think I was. I'm just a charity case he probably regrets taking in._

"Come now, Loki," Thor argued sternly. "You know why he kept your true heritage a secret. What chance would you have had for a happy childhood here in Asgard if it were known?"

_And what chance do I have at a decent life now that it is known?_ Loki turned to glare directly into Thor's eyes. _The Aesir will never accept me as their prince. They loathe me. I've seen it. Nothing makes them happier than to watch me suffer in humiliation._

Thor stood up and paced toward the open window. He placed his large hands on the sill and stared outward with a look of concentration rarely seen on his face. After a long silence, he turned to Loki and asked quietly, "Is that why you wanted to rule Midgard instead?"

Loki blinked in surprise and drew his shoulders into a stiff line. He hadn't expected the question. He wasn't even sure he had an answer. He stood and joined his brother at the window, taking his hand and tracing his reply slowly as the words came to him. _I am a god. I deserve to be treated like one, as you are. Not like a monster._

Thor sighed and squeezed his hand firmly. "You're not a monster, brother. But you did monstrous things to that realm. You killed their people and destroyed their cities. A ruler who causes such misery is not fit to rule."

Loki's eyes flared intensely. _And how many people do you think Odin has killed as a means of maintaining power over this realm? How many-_

"Our father brings down justice upon those who threaten him!" Thor snapped, jerking his hand away in the middle of Loki's sentence. "Not civilians. Not innocents. It's not the same."

Loki gestured aggressively and after a moment Thor grudgingly held out his hand again. Anger coursed through his body like a spreading fire. _Do you honestly believe Odin has never killed an innocent?_

Thor curled his hand into a fist, then let it drop as a sudden weariness overtook his usually-bright eyes. "Let's not fight, brother. I came here to tell you how glad I am that your visit with mother went well. I did not mean to upset you."

Loki pulled instinctively at his stitches and gazed at the floor. After a moment, he nodded curtly to signify the conversation was over. At that moment, a brief rustling caused them to turn and observe the Jotunn girl entering the room, her hair and tunic rumpled. Loki figured she had probably been sleeping in the linen closet again. What an odd creature.

She smiled when she saw Thor and Loki found himself wondering what exactly their history was that had led to him bringing her here to work in the palace. He knew his brother traveled often throughout the realms as part of his royal duties, but what reason could he possibly have to go to Jotunheim, especially after what had happened there last time? It was all very unusual, and Loki decided he wanted answers. Before he could reach for his brother's hand, however, Thor was towering over the Jotunn girl and enthusiastically telling her about the latest ships to arrive in Asgard's spaceport, bearing goods from other worlds. Loki reclined against the windowsill and listened half-interestedly to their discussion of prices and products. She was particularly curious about a ship that had apparently conducted some covert trade with Midgard. Perhaps she wanted more creation stories.

The visit was interrupted by a harried servant who poked his head in the doorway to inform Thor he was needed in the throne room. This annoyed Loki, but he was kept silent as his brother hastily bid him farewell and exited the room as loudly as he'd entered. The Jotunn girl inquired if he needed anything, and Loki glanced briefly at her bluish hands before shaking his head and retreating to his sitting room to amuse himself with the few books he'd been given. Perhaps he could secure permission to visit the library before his brain atrophied from lack of stimulation.

That night, Loki dreamt he was resting on his bed when he suddenly felt the density of his body increase, as through gravity was crushing him with the weight of a stone pillar. The room lurched sickeningly and he found himself being forced down through his mattress onto the cold floor below. Loki struggled desperately, bracing himself for impact, but it never came. He opened his eyes to find total blackness around him in every direction. The sensation of falling permeated his body. He couldn't move. He couldn't scream. And then, from nowhere, a withered hand clawing at the side of his face. A voice he never wanted to hear again pooling in his ear. **_He will make you long for something sweet as pain…._**

Loki awoke with a crash and found himself heaving on the floor in darkness. The enchanted thread binding his lips burned like molten silver, intensifying his need to scream until he couldn't bear its torment. He clawed wildly at his face, fingers shaking, throat seared with fire. _Please let it stop. Let it stop. Please._ Just as he began to choke on the air stuttering in his throat, he felt a pair of hands seize his shoulders and roll him onto his back. Not sure if these hands meant safety or danger, Loki nevertheless grasped at them, preferring any contact to the doomed isolation of the void. His vision flickered wildly and it took a while for his eyes to detect the lamp hovering above him, illuminating the bluish face of its holder. Loki shuddered and tried to roll away, but the floor spun dangerously and he thought better of it. Icy fingers settled on his throat, cooling the burning agony of asphyxiation until he could breathe again. She was talking to him in that low, dark voice, and her words swam in and out of his consciousness. "My prince….all right….lie still and….just a dream…."

Loki groaned and pressed his hands over his face, feeling wet gouge marks where his nails had torn the flesh. His fingers came away bloody, and he heard the Jotunn girl hiss softly. She braced her arms beneath him and practically lifted him to his feet. "You are injured, my prince. Please wait here safely while I get the healing salve."

Loki balked instinctively when he realized she was leading him back to his bed. Perhaps it was the dream, or perhaps the memory of so many anguished hours spent chained to the damn thing, but it was the last place he wanted to be right now. His sudden retreat nearly caused him to fall again. The girl seized him by the arms and hauled him upright. "All right, calm down! Not the bed, then. Would my prince be amenable to resting on the sofa instead?"

Nodding dazedly, Loki allowed her to guide him into the next room and settle him on the sofa. His head was foggy and he swore he could still feel the bruises from The Other's fingers on his face. The girl left his side and he struggled to orient himself upon the cushions. She returned carrying a bowl of water, a cloth, and a tin of healing salve. She set these upon the table and proceeded to arrange the pillows on the sofa's arm to create a gentle slope. Loki was too dizzy to resist as she carefully eased him back to lie on the raised incline, then glided over to sit beside him on the ottoman. He barely reacted to the press of a wet cloth against his face until a slight sting made him wince. "Hold still. It's purified water. It'll cleanse your wounds."

Loki tried to slow his breathing as she moved the cool cloth across his face. He felt lost inside this feverish haze. His lips had not stung this badly since they had first been stitched shut. Was that really just a nightmare? Loki had had plenty of those since he's been tossed into this prison, but they had never resulted in so much physical pain. He started as the girl's cold fingers touched his face, massaging the healing salve into the newly cleansed gashes on his cheekbone. She repeated the action on the other side of his face and he stared up at her dazedly as the wounds began to seal. In the darkness her grey eyes seemed black, shuttered from any emotion. He wondered what she was thinking about him as he lay below her, too weak to rise. At any other time he would have expected scorn, derision, a kind of savage mockery. Now….?

She stood as he felt the last of his wounds seal over, capping the healing salve and returning the cloth to the basin. "You'll be all right now. Stay here and get some rest." Then she retreated into the darkness as soundlessly as a ghost in the night. Before he could even process the movement, his hand had latched onto the fabric of her tunic with a strength he didn't know he possessed. She stumbled as he pulled her back over to the ottoman, blinking owlishly down at him. "Yes, my prince? Do you need something more?"

He stared at her wearily, not sure he had the words to express what he wanted even if he could speak. His eyes wandered over her thin frame and settled on her bluish hands as they clutched the water basin. After a long moment of internal struggle, Loki reached out and pried one of her hands away, pulling it toward him with fingers splayed and palm open. Its delicate feel reminded him of a bluebell from his mother's garden. He could see his own hand begin to flush that same color, but he did not let go. Carefully, with full attention to his task, he traced a series of letters into her palm.

_s t a y_

When he looked into her face again, her eyes had changed. He wasn't sure how, exactly, but the blackness around her pupils seemed less like an endless cavern and more like the iridescent stone which lived in caverns beneath the earth. Like obsidian. Loki blinked, roused from his thoughts as cold fingers around his hand squeezed gently. The girl settled herself back on the ottoman, saying nothing, for which Loki was grateful. Somehow, that one little word had completely exhausted his ability to communicate. He closed his eyes, cradling her frigid hand to his chest. In darkness, its touch reminded him that he was not alone. He did not dream anymore that night. Sleep passed over him like moonlight, bringing the sensation of a cool, fragile glow upon his skin.


End file.
